


bury the hatchet

by thunderylee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Universe, Infidelity, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slight Bondage, established draco/pansy, established harry/hermione
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-11
Updated: 2005-06-11
Packaged: 2019-02-08 01:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12854238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Post-Hogwarts. Draco runs into Harry at a charity event.





	bury the hatchet

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

Draco allowed his gaze to wander aimlessly around the ballroom. He was dreadfully bored; being dragged to this soirée had definitely _not_ been his idea. Damn Pansy and her need to make an appearance at every bloody high-society function in the Wizarding world. He supposed it made them look good, like they actually cared about whatever charity whatever organization was raising money for. He knew better than anyone, though, that his wife could care less about the charity and more about getting her picture in numerous magazines as ‘Lady Malfoy’.

After donating a fair amount of Galleons to the cause, Draco accepted a flute of champagne from the house-elf and settled at their table, watching Pansy mingle. She looked exquisite in her pristine white dress robes, much like the ones she had worn on their wedding day. Her hair was pinned up in a French roll, with several curly tendrils falling on either side of her face. She had grown up quite beautifully; there was no denying that. Draco wouldn’t have married her otherwise.

The alcohol warmed his belly as he sat contently, draining three more flutes before Pansy returned to the table.

“You will not believe who’s here,” she hissed quickly, glancing around to make sure she wasn’t overheard gossiping.

Draco grunted carelessly, his eyes half-shut.

“Potter and Granger!”

His eyes popped open and he straightened up in his seat, disregarding his sudden lightheadedness.

“Where?” he demanded, scanning the crowd for his loathed childhood enemies.

“Over there,” replied Pansy, pointing inconspicuously. “I just ran into Granger by the loo. Apparently they’re married now – who would have thought? She made this grand speech about ‘burying the hatchet’ and -”

Pansy’s voice grew distant in Draco’s mind as he caught sight of said couple. His vision was somewhat fuzzy from the champagne, but Potter stood out vividly amongst the blur of people in the ballroom. His perfectly-tailored dress robes were a dark green, accentuating his eyes – eyes that were no longer hidden behind those hideous glasses. He had aged quite nicely, too; in fact, if it wasn’t for the prominent scar on his forehead and the bushy-haired woman on his arm, Draco wouldn’t have even recognized him.

Draco was jerked out of his reverie by a firm pinch on his arm.

“Are you listening to me?” nagged Pansy.

Without averting his eyes from Potter, Draco simply answered, “No.”

Pansy rolled her eyes and sighed. Draco barely noticed her stomping away from the table. He was focused on Potter, who was socializing with the board members, his arm loosely resting around Granger’s waist. Then he _smiled_ , and Draco’s entire body was filled with a warmth that he was certain had nothing to do with champagne.

Thoughts and feelings that had long since been laid to rest resurfaced with such a force that they made Draco’s head spin. He tried to push them away, but they wouldn’t budge. It had been four years since he last saw Potter, yet he might as well have been eighteen again, belittling Potter one last time on their final Hogwarts’ train ride to King’s Cross.

Draco didn’t understand it then, nor did he now. At twenty-two years old, with a wife and son, he was the poster child for heterosexuality. But underneath the façade of propriety, he knew he didn’t love Pansy the way he ought to; the way a husband loves his wife. Marrying Pansy had been convenient, the right thing to do, what everyone expected. The sex was routine and purely physical, more about getting off than expressing emotions, in Draco’s opinion. Of course Pansy never complained, what with the money and the respectable name. It was the perfect arrangement for her.

Staring at his old nemesis after all this time, he was once again accosted by the self-accusations he had been denying since he was eleven. He was _not_ gay. He was _not_ attracted to Potter. He did _not_ have an urge to throw Potter down and do things to him that he had only read about in Zabini’s poofter mags.

Draco’s internal battle was interrupted when Potter turned to look directly at him. Potter’s smile melted and his mouth slightly gaped open in shock. He seemed oblivious to his wife’s concerned expression, ignoring her attempts to regain his attention. Their eyes locked from across the crowded ballroom, and everyone else suddenly faded into the background.

Potter detached himself from Granger and headed towards Draco’s table, leaving behind a thoroughly confused and irritated witch. He walked confidently, his head held high, his focus not wavering from his destination. He stopped directly in front of Draco’s chair, looking down at him with those blazing green eyes.

“Malfoy,” he said evenly.

“Potter,” Draco managed to respond with composure and dignity. He had all intentions of standing up to match Potter’s height, but he was more than aware of an arousal that would have been highly noticeable in his dress robes. Besides, remaining seated insinuated that Potter was not important enough for Draco to make an effort to move solely on his behalf.

“I assume you are well?” Potter asked sincerely.

“Quite,” Draco replied politely. “You?”

“Can’t complain.”

Silence ensued, leading Draco to squirm uncomfortably and wrack his preoccupied brain for something – anything – to break the proverbial ice.

“So,” he said slowly. “You and Granger, huh?”

Potter nodded and held up his left hand, displaying a wedding band. “Yup. Almost four years now.”

Draco flaunted his own ring. “Same here. I always thought Granger would end up with Weasel, though.”

Potter cocked his head in confusion. “You must not keep in touch with your old dormmates. Ron is with Blaise. They’ve been together since we left school.”

“ _Zabini_?” Draco repeated incredulously, more in awe at the fact Zabini was in a monotonous relationship than who it was with.

Potter chuckled. “Surely you knew he was gay? The way he flaunted his arse all over the place. He even propositioned me a few times.”

“You’re not the only one,” Draco replied, cringing at the memory.

“I didn’t know about Ron, though,” Potter went on, frowning in thought. “He surprised me.”

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. “I thought you both were.”

“Really.” Potter raised an eyebrow. “I could say the same about you.”

“And look at us now.” Draco raised his empty flute in a half-toast. “Married with children. How many do you have now?”

“Two and a half,” Potter answered proudly. “We just found out last week.”

“Congratulations,” said Draco dryly. “Glad to hear you’re doing well.”

“Likewise.”

Potter’s stare became more intense as he extended his hand. Draco accepted it in a brief shake, his fingers closing around a slim object stealthily slipped to him.

“It takes a strong man to come to terms with himself; an even stronger one to act upon them.”

Draco thoughtlessly squeezed his fist around the object as he watched Potter walk away, bemused by the cryptic statement. Potter whispered something in Granger’s ear and kissed her cheek before striding towards the exit doors, giving Draco a final glance over his shoulder and the faintest of winks.

Draco slowly opened his hand to reveal the object inside. His jaw dropped in disbelief as he realized what it was.

A simple hotel key, engraved with the room number 490, gleamed invitingly in his palm.

“What was that all about?”

Pansy. Draco quickly stashed the key in his pocket and turned to face his wife, a bored look promptly plastered on his face.

“Just catching up,” he said casually.

Pansy eyed him suspiciously as he downed the rest of his flute and reached for another. “I see,” she said. “Are you ready to leave then?”

Draco shook his head. “Potter mentioned that Zabini would be arriving shortly. It would be nice to see him again, don’t you think?”

Pansy made a face, and Draco almost smirked at his brilliant scheming abilities.

“I’ll pass.” She leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Don’t be too late, and for the love of Merlin, don’t let him talk you into doing anything daft.”

“Yes, dear,” Draco replied teasingly.

A smug smile crept on his face as she Disapparated. Without another thought, he gracefully stood from the table and made his way towards the same doors Potter had escaped through. He wasn’t _that_ intoxicated; he could still walk properly.

Following the signs on the ceiling, he took the appropriate lifts and turns until he was standing in front of a door that bore the number 490. He unlocked the door before he could change his mind and carefully pushed it open.

Shadows danced on the walls from the flickering candles placed strategically throughout the room. The dim light pouring in from the hallway made it even harder for Draco to see, so he closed the door behind him and waited for his eyes to focus to the dark.

“You came.” Potter’s voice was low and raspy.

“I am nothing if not a strong man,” declared Draco.

Draco saw him, sprawled in an armchair in the corner of the room. He was wearing a bathrobe that was loosely tied in the front, allowing Draco an unobstructed view of his sculptured chest and muscular thighs.

“Like what you see, Malfoy?”

Draco said nothing.

Potter promptly rose from the chair and sauntered towards him, reestablishing the eye contact they had held in the ballroom. Draco instinctively stepped back as Potter approached him, cursing under his breath when he felt the cold door behind him.

Potter didn’t stop until he was in Draco’s face, their noses almost touching. Draco could feel Potter’s breath on his top lip as Potter scanned his eyes for affirmation in one swift motion.

Draco’s eyes slipped shut as Potter leaned in, pressing their lips together. The touch alone sent thousands of tingling shocks through Draco’s body, much like a pleasant Cruciatus, causing Draco to gasp in response.

Potter slipped his tongue through Draco’s slightly parted lips and raised his hand to cradle Draco’s face, tilting it in order to deepen the kiss. Draco subconsciously reached his own hands around Potter’s waist to pull him closer, his body now wedged between the hardness of the door and Potter’s own hardness.

Draco groaned appreciatively into Potter’s mouth as their arousals pressed together through their robes. He tugged on the soft fabric of Potter’s bathrobe in an attempt to rid him of it, succeeding when the ties unraveled and fell to the side, leaving Potter completely nude in the front.

Potter followed suit and fumbled with the clasps on Draco’s dress robes, unfastening them all as he continued to grind his lower body against Draco’s. The only thing separating them was Draco’s silk boxers, which were quickly lowered and stepped out of.

Potter snaked a hand down between them to stroke their erections. They swallowed each other’s moans as Draco bucked his hips and dug his fingers into Potter’s bare arse.

Potter removed his hand and broke the kiss as abruptly as he had initiated it. Draco shot open his eyes to see what was going on, only to see flames of lust and shameless want burning in Potter’s.

The next thing Draco knew, Potter had dropped to his knees and wrapped his lips around his cock. It took all of Draco’s strength not to scream out loud, and even more to keep his own knees from giving out. Potter’s hands were firm on Draco’s arse as he took the entire length in his mouth and swirled his tongue on the underside, sucking him with wild abandon.

Draco was trying so hard not to come that he almost didn’t notice a wet finger inch its way between his legs. When it plunged into his arse and started wriggling around, he lost all control and went over the edge, grabbing fistfuls of Potter’s hair and pulling _hard_ , crying out incoherently.

He smacked the back of his head on the door as his knees finally gave out and he slumped to the floor. In his blissful oblivion, he felt himself being dragged down the carpet and covered with a warm body. Another finger was inserted into his arse, then another, all three of them thrusting in and out hastily.

Potter captured his lips again and removed his fingers, pressing his cock against Draco’s entrance. Draco grabbed his arms to urge him on, but Potter grabbed both of his wrists in one hand and pinned them over his head. He kissed him once more before burying his face in Draco’s neck and forcing himself through the tight ring of muscles.

Draco threw his head back and moaned loudly, raising his hips to meet with Potter’s thrusts. At this angle, Potter hit a spot inside him that made him see stars and caused his own cock to spring back to life. He struggled against Potter’s restraints, but no avail.

Potter bit down into Draco’s neck as he quickened his pace, thrusting rapidly and breathing erratically. With a strangled grunt, he filled Draco with his hot release and collapsed on top of him, loosening his grip on Draco’s hands.

His hands now free, Draco placed one on Potter’s back and the other in his hair. Potter lifted his head and dropped a quick kiss to Draco’s lips before hoisting himself up and retying his bathrobe.

On the floor, Draco burst out laughing.

Harry looked at him oddly. “What’s so funny?”

Draco managed to speak between bouts of laughter.

“I doubt this is what your wife meant when she said we should ‘bury the hatchet’.”


End file.
